The Desperate Ones
by LlewllyHrnswller
Summary: A quiet night in the Tardis filled with introspection, grief, scotch, and Nina Simone. Doc10, set post 42. M rating for minimal swearing. and unless story gremlins take over, no smut here, sorry
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Well lookie here, me first fanfic. Maiden voyage. Out of my hastily scribbled notebooks and scraps of paper and onto this boredom banishing website. Please be kind, but if you can't be kind, then at least be constructive! I wrote this after "42" so there are definite references, but I think it could work after "Human Nature" and "Family of Blood," if you disregard those piddly references. All let all-a-youse be the judge. And yes I know its a bit angsty, but I just felt like the whole Rose thing needed to be addressed for Martha's sake. And I like sad/broody Doctor almost as much as I like silly-drunk-necktie-around-his head-banana brandishing Doctor….man did that sentence get away from me. ANYhoo!

Oh and no, I don't own the Doctor, nor anypart of the Dr. Who series…...but man do I wish I owned a Tardis.

Ch. 1

The Tardis was still. It was the one thing oddly enough that Martha Jones had trouble reconciling with in her new room on the Tardis. The rushing about and the fast paced time trotting she experienced thus far with the Doctor, she had adapted to. Just one race after another. She had taken it for granted, so when the Doctor told her that their next trip would take a little longer, she assumed that the pace inside the Tardis would be more of the same...then he showed her to a bedroom.

"Occasionally travel on the Tardis is more like sailing a ship, have to consider winds and currents, tacks and depths, hoisting various things and...er, scurvy…...anyway, quite complicated," the Doctor had rambled by way of explanation to Martha. "Soooo, here you are: first class cabin. I know you haven't had much sleep and it will take about 6 hours or so," he had spoke rapidly, trying to cover Martha's protests. He strode across the comfortable and well furnished room to another door. "Bathroom complete with sonic shower - very soothing. And there's a wardrobe with odds and ends. I showed you the larger wardrobe, yes? So if anything doesn't fit here, you'll be able to find something there. Anything else you need but can't find, simply ask the console on the wall and the Tardis will try to find it. Except for lemons, for some reason, she always confuses ordinary Earth lemons with Blurgien leekmond beetles. Definitely NOT same!" he grinned, "So! If you'll excuse me, I too am feeling the effects of the past couple of days and shall retire to my own humble quarters." He had ended his speech with a deep dramatic bow and had started to turn heel and leave when Martha shook herself from her stunned silence and managed a brief and confused, "What?"

The Doctor turned, equally perplexed. "Hmm? Sorry? tired-everything you need at fingertips-exhausted-retire for six or seven hours…?"

Martha smiled at the way his hair seemed to spike even higher when he raised both eyebrows and wrinkled his forehead. "No, I just mean, well, what if something happens, shouldn't we, er you, be monitoring something or calibrating a thingy?" Her voice ran out of excuses to keep him captive.

The Doctor waved a hand dismissively, "Nonsense, very little of that Star-Trekky-tekkie business needed with the Tardis once its got a course laid in. All thingies are finely tuned and all doohickies are monitoring the whatcha-ma-callits. If anything goes wrong, she'll let me know." He put his hands in his pockets and rocked forward slightly, "So if you don't need anything? Splendid! Goodnight Martha my Dear!"

Two hours had passed since the Doctor turned heel and left Martha Standing alone and bewildered in her new room. 'Was this how it was always going to be with him,' she wondered, 'two steps forward, three back?' Every-time she thought she got a little closer to the real Doctor or anytime they had a small moment of friendship, the Doctor either became entirely too cheerful or talkative, leaving Martha shut out in the cold again. Each time Martha felt keenly aware of the ghostlike presence of the other woman. Rose.

Martha was not naive, she knew her place in these adventures was as the rebound girl. Just someone to have along to make the loss and emptiness more bearable. After the great living and vengeful sun had tried to burn the Doctor from the inside and kill everyone with him, Martha hoped she had gained a bit more trust and respect. The big relieved bear hug when they were safe had seemed like the first truly genuine thing between them. And then her own key to the Tardis?

Martha knew she had a tendency to fall hard for guys, but after that, she couldn't ignore just how much her feelings had deepened for the Doctor. While the excitement and adventure were intoxicating, but the flip side was becoming so harsh of a contrast she wasn't sure if she could handle it.

She was far too wired to sleep in all this stillness and quiet. She tried the sonic shower, but she couldn't figure out the proper setting for all the different lights and humming noises to make it relaxing. She then occupied herself with exploring the new wardrobe, but she was too distracted to be very creative and settled on jeans and a small nondescript black T-shirt.

The jeans felt like relaxed and soft men's jeans and were only a little baggy on her slim hips and long legs. It did get her to thinking though, the jeans couldn't have possibly belonged to the Doctor, well not in this form anyway. She knew his last companion was a woman. It suddenly hit her how little she actually knew of the Doctor and his past and she shivered slightly. She briefly looked at the other odds and ends in the wardrobe: scarves, lacy ties, unknown military coats, exotic skirts and dresses, as well as common and innocuous 20th century T-shirts, jumpers, and trainers. All must have been acquired somewhere/when or someone had left them here. It was so easy during all their crazy and unbelievable travels around time and space to think that she, Martha Jones, was special. That she was experiencing things that no one else had ever seen or dreamt of. Then the reality would hit her unexpectedly and with full force. She was not entirely unique.

The Doctor had taken perhaps countless others along similarly outrageous escapades once before. And there she was again, like a whisper of a breeze, Rose. She was the only one Martha knew by name and the only one whose absence the Doctor seemed to feel the most. Even now, even after the SS Pentallian and all the screams and tears, hugs and gifts for Martha, she could still sense the Doctor's grief over Rose.

Martha sighed and hugged herself in the stifling silence and did as she always did in these moments of self pity: she told herself to hang on and enjoy the ride as it was. She reminded herself that she was on a freaking spaceship/time machine, exploring the cosmos with an alien. A captivating and enigmatic alien, who despite god-knows how many years of traveling, thought her special enough to take with him. Then came the hopeful lie sprung from all unrequited love, "Maybe one day."

'Right. New task, get out of the Room of Crippling Introspection, and find something else.' Martha crept out of her room and felt like a kid sneaking out of bed. A little dangerous and thrilling and definitely distracting. The Doctor had never said to stay in her room all night, plus Martha decided that she needed to get to know the rest of the ship. It didn't take long for her to discover just how much bigger the Tardis was on the inside. Labyrinthine corridors, stairs and dozens of doors led to empty rooms, dead ends and a few odds and ends. Most of the ship was cluttered with relics and souvenirs from past adventures. Objects both familiar and undefinable which no doubt had fantastic stories behind them.

As Martha walked past yet another corridor trying to get back to the main control room, she paused. Music? The presence of any sound besides her own soft footfalls and breathing was at first eerie as it drifted from down the corridor. Martha walked towards the music, barely daring to breath for fear of what she might find. It was always at this part in the film when the young and beautiful heroine would run into something rather nasty in the warehouse, or castle, or whatever. The Tardis seemed endless, who knows what lurked in the unused corridors, waiting….Irrational ghost stories from back home crept into her mind as well as unbidden images of Norman Bates' mother and the Phantom of the Opera, er Tardis rather. Martha got close enough to see a sliver of light from a cracked door and could distinguish a woman singing. The voice was low and full of woe. Martha had never heard such sadness and longing in a song before. She paused just outside the door and heard another sound under the music, a soft sob and sigh. Martha dared one eye to peer into the room and suppressed a small gasp.

The light flickered and danced from what could only be a fireplace. Sitting in a great overstuffed leather chair was the Doctor, head in one hand and a half empty bottle in the other. Martha felt embarrassed at catching so private a moment but couldn't look away from the wreck of a man before her. Just as her brain screamed to back away and forget what she saw, the console on the wall by the door made a small but unmistakable beep.

The Doctor's head raised heavily and his red rimmed eyes saw the sliver of Martha Jones in the crack of the doorway.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Sorry it took so long to update. Honestly, it would've been longer but then I saw two reviews and it cheered me so! Can't believe someone actually read this::sigh:: wow, that was such a rookie reaction, wasn't it? Just to warn you: Angst alert!

Also, everything was HEAVILY inspired by Nina Simone. The title is a Nina Simone song, and I kinda wrote all of this with a soundtrack in mind. I didn't intend for it to be a songfic, but it just worked out that way. So sorry about all the song lyrics, if it bugs you just scroll past them. Hey, it helped me get through the Hobbit. If you're interested, find the following songs: "Tell me more and then some" - Nina Simone, "Ne Me Quitte Pas" - Nina Simone, "Don't Explain" - Nina Simone and "These arms of mine" - Otis Redding, cause its better for slow dancing

I only own these songs on their albums, but do not own the right to distribute them.

I also do not own Dr. Who.

Ch. 2

Four hours earlier….

The Doctor rested his back on the closed door of Martha Jones' room, breathing heavily and willing his anxiety to quiet. Dual hearts thumped so loudly in his chest, he was sure he felt them knocking the door through his back. He didn't know which was more exhausting, the manic attempt to retain a "normal" and happy facade or the crushing guilt every time he let Martha closer. He ran long fingers through his thick shock of hair, and became acutely aware, for the millionth time, of every second of his 900 something years. 'So old. Too fucking old. No one should live so long as to see everything, everyone, fade away around them.' So true to form, he kept moving. The Doctor pushed himself away from the door and the warm girl on the other side of it and walked mechanically to his own room.

He popped in on the main control room to check on the Tardis and headed down the opposite corridor. He ran his hand across the cool metal as he climbed the stairs and down the hall. He closed his eyes, and for the billionth time, tried to stifle the inevitable wince as he passed one particular door. And for the zillionth time tried to fight every particle in his body as he paused at the door and pressed his palm against it. He managed to leave her door after only five minutes of lingering. 'A small victory.'

The Doctor reached his own room at the end of the hall and out of habit, left his door cracked open. 'This might be a dream after all. She might be down the hall sleeping and she might walk through that door any moment.'

But she's not. a bitter voice whispered in the back of his mind.

He paused in the doorway, unsure. The Doctor had been constantly moving with Martha, and hadn't had a moment of solitude in this room for weeks. Sharks die if they don't keep moving, he laughed ruefully, the sound hollow and empty.

'God, why is it so quiet?'

It was never quiet when SHE was here, the voice inside whispered, soft as velvet, and bitter as bile. He never thought about the silence since he picked up Martha. It was the main reason he had to take on another companion; avoid the silence. It was a way to fall back in his old rhythm of running from one end of the universe to the other. Each time meeting with something dangerous, but definitely distracting. In all the chaos and running for their lives though, he never thought he'd lose Martha. Not until he saw her panicked and scared face in the escape pod window slowly receding into the black of space. It wasn't until then that he realized he did in fact care for Martha.

But that wasn't the plan! He wasn't supposed to care for another. She was just supposed to be yet another wide-eyed ape along for the ride, going "ooh" and "aah" at how big the universe is and how the human race are the sea monkeys of that universe. He was SUPPOSED to be numb inside. "For-bleeding-ever," he added petulantly. He wasn't at all prepared for this guilt over feeling connected to someone else. Not after Rose.

Her small golden face swam into his memory. She was always there, behind everything else. The pain was always fresh.

He suppressed a groan and staggered to the wall console to reroute the alerts from the main control room to his own when his eyes fell on an old record player under a pile of clothes and papers.

He flung the debris away and connected the cords to an outlet in the wall. He pressed a panel on the wall and it slid away, revealing hundreds of vinyl records. He walked his long fingers past old friends and paused at one. "Why not? If you're gonna wallow mate, go all the way."

In one fluid sequence, the Doctor slipped the record out and onto the turntable and the needle dropped and scratched to life. Nothing can match the warm and almost comforting noise of a record beginning to play. Then she started to sing, the raw and soulful need in her voice and the constant slow thrum of the bass filling the room. He paused like a devout penitent to let it wash over him and through him. He swayed on his feet a little and then stumbled over to his chair, grabbing a bottle of scotch on the way.

[I want more, more, and then some

Daddy you know what I wanna hear

I want some more and then some

Of that, "I love you only, dear"

He sank into the overstuffed chair and tossed the cap of the bottle away. "Won't be needing that tonight," he muttered to himself. The fist swig was long and painful as the amber liquid burned its way down his throat and through his veins. The second was easier and warmed him everywhere but his chest. His chest felt empty and heavy as ever.

[I want some more and then some

Oh how you feel

And then when you done told me

About a million times how much you love me

And you're through

Start right back in again

'Does it ever stop? Do they ever stay?'

Not likely. Its a part of life old chap. 

'Then why am I still here?' He took another angry swig.

You could always give up, surrender. 

He snorted at that and closed his eyes against the pressure there.

'Should not have brought her here. Should not have asked her to come along for one more.'

Which one? Any of them? All of them? If the voice had belonged to another person in the room, the Doctor was sure their eyebrow would've raised in a look of sarcastic amusement.

"Martha," the sound strangled from him. 'Its not right, not fair to her. She has a family, friends, medical school. She has a future.'

So did the others. 

'Why'd I do it?'

Yes, why? 

He didn't dare answer. He knew the reason and hated it. He angrily pushed the pathetic feelings of weakness down with more scotch. It didn't help, but the burning felt good.

[I've made the same mistake

I know the awful ache

Of a little heart that's been double crossed

The waitings been so long, so long

Its hard to be believing

I thought I'd missed my guess

I thought happiness for me was lost.

All the while Nina Simone cried out her woe to the world and stubborn memories resurfaced all around the Doctor.

It was a tiny jazz club in Harlem in the 60s. As promised, he and Rose saw the Beatles in concert and she asked to go somewhere to relax a bit and help the ringing in their ears from scores of screaming teenage girls. "Somewhere for us to be alone and quiet," she said to him, her eyes twinkling at what was unsaid. That was Rose; mischief and light. Although he took the time vortex out of her, there were times, especially when she smiled just so, the doctor could sear she still glowed. So he took a gamble and they crept in the back of a smoky blue club and sat at a hidden and dark table.

The Doctor gallantly took her coat and draped it over the chair before pushing her seat in. He loved to play every inch the gentleman with her, knowing it would win more of those glorious smiles. So with a cheeky wink and grin he ordered a couple of martinis at the bar.

As he waited for the drinks, Rose played along, staying quiet at the table. Except for her eyes, watching him all the while. The Doctor gazed back, his deep brown eyes positively smoldering and a flirtatious smirk on his lips. He sauntered back to the table with their drinks and moved with inhuman speed to be closer to Rose, lifting his drink in toast. He kept his voice in a ridiculously suave growl/whisper and said, "To us."

Rose barely stifled a giggle at such a cheesy line and raised her glass in kind. Wanting to one-up the Doctor in the game, she leaned in even closer, deepening her already low neckline. She took a slow sip from her martini, watching him all the while from over the top of the glass. She lightly brusher her other fingers over his hand resting on the table just as the band started another slow song. The emcee got up to the microphone and announced, "Ladies and gentleman, our very special guest, Mr. Otis Redding…"

[These arms of mine, they are lonely,

Lonely and feeling blue.

These arms of mine, they are yearning,

Yearning from wanting you…

Rose's small brush of fingertips sent electricity coursing up the Doctor's arm. Not to be outdone or surrender, he stood and offered a hand to Rose, silently asking her to dance. She grinned even broader and followed him to the tiny dance floor. Barely any couples occupied the floor, but neither Rose nor the Doctor seemed to notice anyone else in the world. As they swayed gently under the dim blue lights, all pretense of the game they started earlier was gone. The Doctor wrapped one arm around Rose and kept their intertwined hands up against his chest while Rose rested her head against his shoulder. He pressed one small kiss to her forehead and felt her smile against his neck, her long eyelashes tickling the skin there.

[And if you, would let them hold you

Oh, how grateful, how grateful I would be.

Rose lifted her head slowly and locked eyes with the Doctor's. Slowly, achingly slow, pressed one deep kiss to his lips.

[These arms of mine, they are burning

Burning from wanting you

These arms of mine, they are wanting

Wanting to hold you

That was it, just a kiss and a slow dance during a five minute song. But the moment seemed to the Doctor to last as long as any one of his lifetimes. It was beyond flowery speeches, and deeper than sex.

"Although," the Doctor thought sarcastically, "it would have been nice to have that as well." Unfortunately right on cue, they were attacked by a blood sucking knut from the Orgoni nebula and all romance was gone.

"Note to self," the now very drunk Doctor quipped, "do not let otherworldly beasties squash the mood. There! You see, I learned something. Deserves a reward I should think." He tossed back another long swig and tossed the now empty bottle aside. Just then he noticed there was no music, only the needle scratching at the end of the record. "Oh Nina, Nina, Nina, Nina, Nina, Nina...darling you need to be flipped," the Doctor staggered to the record player and with a great deal of concentration, began playing the other side. "Yes, Nina ol'girl, jus' you'n me. No more happy music, no more Otis. Just you'n me and our ghosts." He sank bak into the chair, suddenly bone weary again as the familiar weight of it all settled back into place.

He grabbed the new bottle, angrily choking the neck in his hand as he gulped more of the whiskey until it burned his throat, his stomach, his mouth, and up to his eyes. It burned but did not consume as he had hoped. All it did was earn him a coughing fit and watery eyes. He took three breaths and suddenly the tears in his eyes weren't from the drink anymore.

"I'm sorry Rose. God I'm so sorry."

[Ne me quitte pas / Il faut oublier / Tout peut s'oublier / Qui s'enfuit déjà / Oublier le temps / Des malentendus / Et le temps perdu / A savoir comment /Oublier ces heures /Qui tuaient parfois / A coups de pourquoi / Le coeur du bonheur

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas

Moi je t'offrirai / Des perles de pluie / Venues de pays / Oÿ il ne pleut pas / Je creuserai la terre / Jusqu'après ma mort / Pour couvrir ton corps / D'or et de lumière / Je ferai un domaine / Oÿ l'amour sera roi / Oÿ l'amour sera loi / Oÿ tu seras reine

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas / Je t'inventerai / Des mots insensés / Que tu comprendras / Je te parlerai / De ces amants-là / Qui ont vu deux fois / Leurs coeurs s'embraser / Je te raconterai / L'histoire de ce roi / Mort de n'avoir pas / Pu te rencontrer

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas

On a vu souvent / Rejaillir le feu / De l'ancien volcan / Qu'on croyait trop vieux / Il est paraät-il / Des terres brulées / Donnant plus de blé / Qu'un meilleur avril / Et quand vient le soir / Pour qu'un ciel flamboie / Le rouge et le noir / Ne s'épousent-ils pas

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas / Je ne vais plus pleurer / Je ne vais plus parler / Je me cacherai là / A te regarder / Danser et sourire / Et à t'écouter / Chanter et puis rire / Laisse-moi devenir

L'ombre de ton ombre

L'ombre de ta main

L'ombre de ton chien

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas

Ne me quitte pas

ENGLISH TRANSLATION:

Don't leave me / We must forget / All we can forget all we did till now/ Let's forget the cost of the breath / We've spent saying words unmeant / And the times we've lost hours that must destroy / Never knowing why everything must die at the heart of joy

Don't leave me don't leave me

Don't leave me don't leave me

I'll bring back to you the pearls of rain / From a distant domain where rain never fell / And though I grow old I'll keep mining the ground / To deck you around in gold and light / I'll build you a domain where love's everything / Where love is king and you are queen

Don't leave me don't leave me

Don't leave me don't leave me

Don't leave me / For you I'll invent / Words and what they meant only you will know/ Tales of lovers who fell apart and then fell in love again / There's a story too that I can confide / Of that king who died from not meeting you

Don't leave me don't leave me

Don't leave me don't leave me

And often it's true that flames spill anew / From ancient volcano's we thought were too old / When all's said and done scorched fields of defeat / Could give us more wheat than the fine April sun / And when evening is nigh with flames overhead / The black and the red aren't they joined in the sky

Don't leave me don't leave me

Don't leave me don't leave me

Don't leave me / I will cry no more / I will talk no more hide myself / To look at you and see you dance and smile/ And hear you sing and laugh / Let me be for you the shadow of your shadow / The shadow of your hand the shadow of your dog

Don't leave me don't leave me

Don't leave me don't leave me


End file.
